Blood
by brazenbell
Summary: Shylock does what he should have done all along.


"Shall I not have barely my principal?"

Shylock stood in his black cloak and red cap, his shoulders still square and erect, but his gaze was fixed unblinkingly upon the lawyer's feet.

"Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture, to be so taken at thy peril, Jew."

For a long, ugly moment it seemed that Shylock was actually considering the forfeiture. Then his gaze snapped up and his shoulders slumped. "Why, then the devil give him good of it! I'll stay no longer question." He turned from the lawyer and swept his things into his bag, but halfway through the act the lawyer said, as though he had been waiting for the worst moment to reveal the news –

"Tarry, Jew: The law hath yet another hold on you. It is enacted in the laws of Venice, if it be proved against an alien that by direct or indirect attempts he seek the life of any citizen, the party 'gainst which he doth contrive shall seize one half his goods; the other half comes to the privy coffer of the state; and the offender's life lies in the mercy of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice."

Shylock froze. Antonio froze. Bassanio and Salerio and even Gratiano froze, although Gratiano's expression was soon split by vicious glee.

"In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st," the lawyer went on calmly, as though Shylock's past and future lives were not crumbling before the court, "for it appears, by manifest proceeding, that indirectly and directly too that hast contrived against the very life of the defendant; and thou hast incurr'd the danger formerly by me rehears'd. Down therefore and beg mercy of the duke."

Shylock did not budge. Only when Gratiano approached and shoved him forcibly to his knees did he move at all, and even then he did so mechanically, accepting Gratiano's taunts and jeers without returning even a hateful glare. He was not at all grateful for the Duke's mercy in granting him his life; indeed he did not even seem to hear the Duke. Only when the lawyer spoke did Shylock at last jerk to attention, and then he began to beg in earnest, much to Gratiano's obvious delight.

"What mercy can you render him, Antonio?" the lawyer asked.

Shylock did not look at Antonio until Antonio rose with unutterable slowness, his chest still bared for Shylock's knife, and came to kneel by the Jew. He took the other man's old bearded face in his own hands and said through gritted teeth many things, all of which bleached Shylock's skin: that Shylock keep half his goods, that he bequeath his wealth to the Christian who had stolen away his daughter, and that he become a Christian. Shylock started.

Everyone else, though, seemed pleased and surprised by Antonio's mercy. The Duke nodded his head; the lawyer asked, "Art thou contented, Jew? what dost thou say?"

Shylock stared at Antonio. Antonio did not smile at all. Antonio had not smiled, not properly, in many, many years.

"No," said Shylock.

The lawyer squinted. "What?"

"No!" Now Shylock stood, wrenching his face from Antonio's white-knuckled grip, and Antonio fell back a little. "I will have my bond."

"But – I said – if thou shed'st his blood, or cut'st more or less than a just pound, thou diest and all thy goods are confiscate –"

"I think I can do it." Shylock took the knife from Tubal and gestured savagely at Antonio. "Sit down, Antonio. Who ordered you to stand? I will have my bond!"

"Shylock!" barked the Duke, eyes wide.

"What?"

Shylock's red cap fell off. His eyes were wild, his old lean muscles taut, but nothing about him spoke of insanity. The lawyer took a step back. Gratiano lunged for the Jew, but Bassanio and Salerio gripped at his elbows, and Antonio thudded back into the chair, his mouth hanging open.

Shylock swept over to him. There was no more ceremony here. He placed the tip of the silver knife against Antonio's chest, searching out his ribs. At the touch of the cold metal Antonio shuddered and croaked out: "But I gave you your life."

Shylock only snorted, as he would at a poor joke, without raising his eyes from Antonio's chest. Then he drove the blade into Antonio's heart. Antonio fell down dead. His blood crept across the floor, and Bassanio and Salerio leapt from it. Shylock was the only one who did not step away from the scarlet pool. He turned to the lawyer and the Duke, spreading his hands. He was not smiling.

"It appears I have spilled good Antonio's blood," he said.

"You will be hanged!"

Shylock shrugged. Antonio's blood soaked into the hem of his black cloak, but from a distance the cloak could have been soaked in water. It could have been anything at all.


End file.
